Chant du monde boréal
Sandshifter, 60N.
Where it all makes sense.



Through Chronicles from Arcania, I shall attempt to share walks with you, this poetics from 60N, where I feel at one with our Earth, my sense of place so maritime.

Saturday, 26 February 2011

once upon a time on the edge of the world

cartographer imaginaire

Today I drew you in the sand.
For days on end, rain filled gulleys, drones, reservoirs, lochs and lochans - waterlogged layers of peatlands, that act like thick blotting paper. For nights on end, I dreamt of each rock in the sand - bouquets of kelp washed on the shore, your every contour, round and round... For the first time in a fortnight, a starry night on Wednesday night! An orange sunrise on Friday overrode grey and dark jade sea.

I nearly lost sight of the island in Panavision.

And when I try to pin blueness, I need to return to the edge; listen to rollers on both sides, as I wander in morning sun. Light, light blessed again my dear sand bridge and let me reach to Arcania. 

My travelogue in island blue begins again.

The incessant song of the sea; rollers behave like bulldozers in surround sound! Spray sticks to everything that stands at surf level. Two hooded crows squabble for kelp; shalders (oystercatchers) shriek back in nearby fields, craigs (rocks in the foreground) and splashzone. Every rock shines and weighs its gold. I feel Tom Thumb returning home... Nothing else matters.

Here lies our wealth, light years away from the void created by the artificial world. I recall Kenneth White sketching a  a destination-less journey, in which the term adventure takes all its dimension. Such simple act of wandering without a goal rekindles our spirit of communion with the world. Moments of sheer joy, as our senses awake to the magic of the island, filled eyes and heart. We are at one with the cosmos.

Soon, we shall cross the equinox, welcome equality in night and day... And before long, re-dress ourselves in this mighty boreal blue.

Haiku triptych de saison

world sketcher -
ragged contours in thick black lines
sometimes distracted by a gale.

Fleur d'oranger -
February drowned inside rain,
indigo month swept by a gale. Here comes the sun.

World poetics -
no matter who lit the first match, as shores expand,
it all sparked off somebody's mind.

© Nat Hall 2011


  1. So many descriptive images, I don't think I can choose a favourite. But I do think you succeeded in pinning blueness.

  2. Thank you kindly, Kay.
    Such a luminous long weekend and one can nearly "taste" the impact of the light in a given moment. Thank you for sharing that walk :-)

  3. I sometimes look at blue like a bouquet, Gordon.
    So intense and fragrant to our hearts :-)
    Thank you for walking along.